


27 October 1976

by fictionalcandie



Series: Sirius Is A Totally Helpful Advice Columnist 'verse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-11
Updated: 2009-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-16 02:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalcandie/pseuds/fictionalcandie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A borrowed Invisibility Cloak, a steamy shower, and... this is not going at all how Sirius expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	27 October 1976

"... seriously, Prongs," Sirius is saying, his voice just low enough that the Transfiguration Professor won't be able to hear it if she stays at the front of the classroom. "Haven't you ever actually _looked_ at Alessandra Watkins's arse?"

"Padfoot," James hisses, looking rather irritated. He waves his wand lazily at the work on the desk in front of them, transfiguring it perfectly without apparent effort. "Would you _shut up_ before you get us caugh—"

Sirius isn't listening. "I mean, I know it's not all that _big_ , but damn, it looks so soft — I would _love_ to get my paws on a nice handful of _that_ , let me tell y—"

"Mr Black!" snaps Professor McGonagall, suddenly appearing over their shoulders. "Mr Potter! What's going on here?"

Blinking once, Sirius blurts, "Just discussing a fine piece of tail, Professor."

James groans and drops his head onto the desk, while Sirius swallows uncomfortably and sends his friend an apologetic glance.

"Well!" The Professor's lips thin and her nostrils flare. "That is _more_ than enough of that, Mr Black."

Naturally, both boys get detention.

__

Sirius feels guilty. It's after 10pm, and James still isn't back from his Quidditch practice. Normally, he wouldn't've even _had_ practice on a Wednesday, but since Sirius had landed him in detention Tuesday night, the Gryffindor Quidditch team had rescheduled — how could they practice without their star Chaser and Captain? — and this late pitch-time was the only one available. This means that James, chief advocate of after-practice showers, will be walking back to the castle alone, in the dark.

Sirius feels _really_ guilty.

Remus and Peter aren't even around to distract him. Remus, tired from the nearness of the full moon, fell asleep not long after dinner. Peter discovered that he hadn't done quite as much of a Potions essay, due the next morning, as he'd thought he'd had — none of it, in fact — and can't be disturbed. Sirius is on his own to fidget and wait for his friend.

Despite knowing that James will probably enjoy the quiet walk back by himself, Sirius still can't shake the feeling it's his fault and he ought to make it up to James. Which is why, when he glances out the window and sees the rest of the Gryffindor team making their way up toward the castle, he decides he'll go down to the pitch and wait for him. It's the least he can do, he tells himself, while grabbing James's Invisibility Cloak to prevent himself from having to explain being out of the tower at such an hour without a legitimate reason.

__

Sirius can hear water running before he even enters the locker room. When he does, he can see that James has obviously only just got done cleaning up and stepped into the shower, as his hair is still mostly dry.

Sirius automatically goes to remove the cloak, opening his mouth to announce his presence — but once he gets a good look at James, he stops, his fingers clutched around the fabric, as he feels his cock stirring and hardening in his trousers. There's no way he he'd be able to explain _that_ to James.

He stays still, hoping the... _problem_... will resolve itself in a minute or two and he'll be able to take off the cloak. He tries thinking about something unattractive, but even the mental image of his mother in a bikini isn't enough to drown out his response to the _real_ image of James in the shower. Judging by the way his, er, reaction is still growing, this is one problem that won't go away on it's own — not, at least, if Sirius stays here and keeps staring.

He doesn't move.

The ache in his groin is by now almost unbearable, but he can't look away, and he can't leave, because— because it is _James_ , and he's _naked_ and _wet_ , and Sirius can't do _anything_ but stare and think how unfair it all is.

His traitorous cock is so hard he's surprised there's still enough blood in his brain for him to think at all.

James makes a noise, a small sigh of contentment as the hot water loosens an apparent knot in the muscles of his back. He rolls his shoulder.

Sirius has his right hand pressed against his cock before he realises what he's doing. The hand feels so good, relieving just a bit of the pressure building there, that he can't make himself remove it.Then James lifts his arms and rests them against the wall of the shower, leaning forward into the spray from the showerhead, hot water soaking his hair and running down his face. It runs down his back, too, over all those tense muscles, down to his slim hips and—

Sirius gulps dryly, the hand on his cock squeezing slightly through his robes.

James's position, perfectly innocent if he were as alone as he thinks he is, is actually much closer to inadvertently inviting. It shows off his arse for Sirius's lecherous, lingering gaze, the rivulets of water emphasising every little curve and dip and _especially_ the seam between his buttocks. It's possibly the hottest thing Sirius has ever seen.

James shifts again, his forehead now leaning on the wall between his arms, his back arching a little more, thrusting his hips back further.

Biting his lip, Sirius suppresses a whimper. _Definitely_ the hottest thing he's ever seen.

He wants to go over there and press himself against all that pale, wet skin, push his hips against that _arse_ (so much better than Alessandra's), run his over those shoulders and then down, wrapping his arms around that slim torso as he wraps his fingers around James's cock and teases until it's as hard as his.

Sirius slips his hand inside his robes, instead, appeasing his lust with short, slow strokes to his own cock.

Then James straightens and turns, reaching for some soap, and Sirius discovers that there is, in fact, something worse than the Quidditch player's previous half-bent pose. He wouldn't have thought it possible — if he'd thought about it at all — but, apparently, watching James rub soapy lather across all of those parts of himself that _Sirius_ wants to touch, is pretty damn close to torture.

Sirius is pretty sure that he could stand the Cruciatus more easily than staying still with James just across the room from him, fisting his cock to clean it — but _fuck_ , that doesn't _look_ like it's what he's doing.

Sirius tries not to groan, biting his lip even harder, as James bends over to scrub at some mud around his shins. Unconsciously giving in to the fact that yes, he _is_ here and yes, he _is_ doing this, Sirius's hand speeds up, pumping his erection faster.

It's dirty and it's wrong, taking advantage like this, and Sirius should be ashamed of himself. But Sirius is so close to the edge and James is almost done in the shower, soon he'll be drying off and covering all that delectable skin with his school robes, and this is probably the only chance Sirius will ever get to—

James tips his head back, rinsing soap or suds or something from his hair, exposing his neck and throwing his collar bones into perfect, sharp relief.

With a moan just barely strangled enough not to be heard over the sound of the shower, Sirius jerks his hips forward, pushing his cock hard into his hand, and comes. Hard.

He doesn't even notice when James turns the water off and steps out of the shower, and can barely pay attention while James dries himself haphazardly before tugging on his robes and sauntering out of the locker room, whistling. The sound fades gradually, but Sirius stays slumped against the wall of the locker room for several minutes after James leaves, his mind wiped of all thought but _Shit I feel good._

Eventually, he comes back to himself, however, and horror rapidly sweeps his face.

He's made a mess on his stomach and the inside of his robes. He refuses to think what it is that made the mess which is slowly dripping down his stomach and over the hand still wrapped around his cock — to think _how_ he made it. It’s ennough that he'll have to do a quick Scorgify on himself before he can head back up to the dormitory and try to face his best friend like normal, while pretending that he hasn't just got off watching James shower.

"Oh, Merlin," Sirius whispers, staring toward the now empty showers. "I just— I didn't— _Fuck_."

At least the Cloak is still clean.

__

When Sirius slinks back into the dormitory, trying not to call attention to himself, James looks up from his homework. "Where've you been?" he asks curiously, sitting up straighter on his bed. He's the only one awake; snores can be heard from both of the other boys' beds.

Sirius, surprisingly, manages not to look very guilty. "Sneaking," he answers vaguely, heading for his own bed.

"That my cloak?" James asks, as Sirius passes him.

"Yeah." Sirius glances at the object draped over his arm, then up at James, his face blank. "Sorry. Here." Probably trying to avoid further questions, he tosses it at the other boy.

Though he looks a little surprised, James manages to catch the cloak. As soon as he touches it, he shoots a look of surprise at Sirius.

"What?"

"This is all damp," announces James, his brows drawing together in a frown.

Sirius grunts noncommittally.

"Padfoot, where have you been?" James repeats, more suspiciously.

"Told you. Sneaking."

James scoffs. "What, in the lake?"

Sirius rolls his eyes, thinking that a quick dip in the cold lake would probably have done him good. Stupid giant squid and all. "No," he mutters, pulling out his pyjamas and quickly changing into them.

"Padfoot, come on." James leans forward eagerly. "You can tell me."

 _No, I can't_ , Sirius mentally retorts. _You'd die of shock and disgust and never speak to me again._

"I was in the kitchens," he lies instead, crumbling his robes into a wrinkled wad and tossing them on the floor as if they've offended him somehow. "The elves were cooking something... steamy."

"Something steamy," echoes James, nonplussed. "And that got my cloak all damp?"

Sirius nods, crawling into his bed and turning his back to James.

"What'd you do, stand in the pot?"

"Something like that," mumbles Sirius, flushing and feeling glad James can't see his face.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," James complains, rather loudly. He lets it go, though, when he sees that he's not going to get any other explanation. "You going to sleep?" he asks, after a few minutes.

Sirius, tensing when he hears James's voice, still manages to sound relaxed when he replies, "Yeah, 'm knackered."

"... all right..."

Hours later, though, Sirius is still awake.

It's a good thing James can't read his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> This work can also be read [here on LiveJournal](http://garderob.livejournal.com/16509.html).


End file.
